


Staring at My Shoes

by Tyloric



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Romance, It's actually kind of painful, M/M, Pre-Slash, Protective Casey, Seriously Casey is pretty terrible at flirting, There is also a sickening amount of fluff here, This entire fic is one giant health hazard, and crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyloric/pseuds/Tyloric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small collection of short fics that were written while season one was still airing. </p><p>Included: Casey's awkward attempts at getting close to Chuck, and Chuck just going with the flow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ramblings

**Author's Note:**

> This is me continuing to bring over my older works from various archives. Huzzah. 
> 
> This is a series of three mini fics. The chapter titles are the original story titles. I cleaned everything up a bit (fixed spelling, grammar, the odd punctuation error) but everything else is virtually the same.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey brings Chuck home after he's been capture and drugged.
> 
> And Chuck has some interesting things to say.

"Hey, Casey?" Chuck slurred.

"What, Bartowski?" Casey growled, shifting the smaller man so the arm that was supporting the majority of Chuck's weight wouldn't fall asleep.

Chuck tittered. "I love ya."

Casey sighed. "You've been drugged."

"Love, love, love you!" Chuck sang drunkenly.

"Oh, shut up," The NSA agent snapped, fumbling with the keys to his apartment.

"What are we doing here? My place is over there." Chuck drawled and waved his free arm wildly in the other direction.

"If you think me taking you home to Ellie is this condition is something I feel like dealing with right now, you're out of your mind."

Chuck pouted. "But she's gonna worry!"

"I'll just get Sarah to call her and tell her that you went out and got tanked and are sleeping at her place." Casey explained as patiently as he was able (which is saying a lot) and pushed the door to the apartment open.

Chuck's brow furrowed, confused. "But we're at your place."

"Yes, we are."

"But you jus' said-"

"Bartowski." Casey growled, his voice low, even, and full of contempt.

"Hmm?" Chuck looked at Casey, grinning like an idiot.

"Shut. Up."

Chuck laughed loudly, "'kay!" Casey just groaned, moving them both over to the couch to lay Chuck down.

"Do you remember anything at _all?"_ He groaned.

"Needle in the neck!" Chuck laughed again.

"Okay, do you know what they gave you?" _Be patient, John. Be patient,_ he thought rather impatiently.

"'Gonna give ya somethin' to lossen ya up, boy,'" Chuck said, imitating the voice of who ever had said it.

"Did you see who it was?"

He just smiled ear to ear. "You've got really pretty eyes, Casey."

"Oh, for the love of—"

"And your muscles are nice too."

"Would you _stop_ complimenting me? It's downright unsettling."

Chuck puckered up his lips and started making kissing noises. Casey groaned and left he living room, heading for the bathroom to get a damp wash cloth. When he returned he found Chuck dozing, struggling to stay awake where he lay.

The agent sighed sympathetically. "What'd they do to you, Bartowski?" he mumbled to himself.

Casey found himself going over the things Chuck had said to him, about how he 'loved' him. He pushed the thoughts away, not needing the stress of what said thoughts would imply.

Plus, there was no way Chuck had meant any of it.

Was there?


	2. Finding the Nerve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey tries to make a move.
> 
> _Tries _.__

Casey stood there, staring at the window, off to the side a bit so anyone looking out of it couldn't see him unless they angled themselves just right.

He felt a little out of place, to be honest. He wasn't usually one to hesitate. He was a decisive man, a man of _action,_ a man who knew what he wanted Which, in this particular situation, wasn't completely untrue. He had made up his mind and he _did_ know what he wanted.

It was the action part that he was having a bit of trouble with.

He stepped forward to the window again, raising his hand to knock, then let it fall to his side as he back-peddled into the shadows and audibly groaned. He pressed his back firmly against the wall, gazing around him, making sure no one was watching him as he attempted to talk himself out of making a complete and utter fool of himself.

There were rules against this sort of thing. Rules that were there for a _reason._ One of the main ones being _don't grow attached to your asset._ He'd failed that, and he knew it. But he needed to _not_ make things _worse_ for himself.

Then again…

 _'No! NO! Snap out of it, John. Just turn around and walk home,'_ he internally yelled at himself.

Casey walked back over to the window, quickly raising his hand and tapping loudly on the glass, before he could think anything else. He didn't wait for a response, just opened it up, slid in, and took a deep (yet quick) breath before turning around.

Chuck was sitting on his bed with a headset clamped to his skull, a video game controller locked tightly in his hands. He was still dressed in his work clothes. He was staring at Casey with his eyebrows raised, clearly not expecting to see the older man climbing through his window at eight o'clock at night.

"Casey?" he asked hesitantly.

"Chuck." He nodded politely. He was screwing up already and he hadn't even _said_ much ofanything yet.

"What, uh…" Chuck seemed to be at as much of a loss for words as he was. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine."

"No missions?"

"Not right now." Casey shook his head.

"World doesn't need saving?"

"I don't think so."

Chuck set the controller down on the bed, and then pulled off his headset, which caused some of his hair to fall down into his face. Casey had to fight to keep self-control, in order to stop himself from ravishing Chuck where he stood.

Chuck turned back around, meeting Casey's gaze, though didn't make to move from the bed.

"You gonna tell me why you're here?" he asked curiously.

 _I really, really shouldn't._ "I'm working on it," he managed choke out.

The nerd raised an eyebrow. "It's nothing _bad,_ is it?"

 _It's pretty damn horrible and it could end my career if anyone finds out._ "That really depends on who you're asking."

A smile threatened to invade Chuck's features, though he fought it back. "Pretty sure I'm asking you."

Casey shifted uncomfortably. "Just give me a minute."

"O...kay. Just don't hurt yourself," Chuck quipped before returning to his game. Casey had to fight not to scowl; this really wasn't the right time.

He realized he must look quite out of place watching Chuck, standing in front of his window as stiff as a statue—that was what he might as well have been, as he only moved to breathe. Casey wondered what Chuck thought of the whole situation. Chuck, Casey had learned, was usually one to immediately judge people, a quality he respected. Still, he was curious.

He should leave. His instincts were telling him to leave, go home. _Sleep._ And they'd never been wrong before.

"Do you," he started, his voice a little louder than he wanted it to be. It gained Chuck's attention well enough, however, so he tried to continue.

"Do you…" Casey's face scrunched up in concentration. _I must look like a fucking twelve year old._ "What I mean is… would you… maybe…" Casey had never felt like less of a man at any other point in his life than he did right now.

Chuck's face was concerned, however. "Would I… what?"

Casey had killed hundreds of men and women. He had been a spy for more than twenty years. He had blown things up, cut peoples' throats, and fired bullets into brains, and still he couldn't seem to find the words he was looking for.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, gathering himself.

"Would you… want to go out with me sometime?" There. He had said it. It was out in the open now.

' _The boat has set sail',_ he thought with bitter humor.

Chuck looked horrified.

' _And apparently it's sinking.'_

"Right," he said quickly, refusing to let his disappointment show on his face or in his voice. "Right. I should… I'll just go." He turned back to the window, hooking his fingers underneath its frame in order to open it.

As he was about to step out, he felt Chuck's hand on his bicep, turning him around.

"I'm not angry, Casey." He smiled. "Just… surprised."

At this, Casey snorted. "That makes two of us."

"But, Casey… you're _really_ asking me out?"

The spy looked down at his feet. "Yeah," he responded quietly.

"This isn't some sort of prank?"

"Uh… no."

Chuck narrowed his eyes, his lips forming a hard line as he regarded Casey for a long moment.

"Okay," he said after a while.

Casey's eyebrows shot up. "Okay?"

Chuck nodded. "Okay. I mean, I don't know my schedule for next week yet, so we'll have to wait until I do before we actually make plans. But okay."

Casey wanted to wrap his arms around Chuck then and there and shove his tongue down the younger man's throat to show him just how _relieved_ he was that not only had he forgiven him for making a complete and total _ass_ of himself, but that he still wanted to go on a date with him.

He didn't let any of this show, however. "Great. I'll, uh… I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Chuck beamed. "Alright." And with that Casey stepped out of the window.

As he walked away, back to his apartment, Casey couldn't help but feel that he had accomplished something pretty outstanding just then.


	3. Disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck can't sleep; he has to many things to think about, to worry about. Enter John Casey to try and make everything better.

He couldn't sleep. He'd been trying for hours but it just wouldn't come. He felt tired, exhausted really. He hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours, but his mind was too troubled; too many thoughts. The exhaustion was there, but when he closed his eyes they would just snap back open. He couldn't help it. It scared him, how close he had come to being taken away from… everything. Friends, family, he would even have missed his job.

Was he being selfish not wanting to be taken away? Technically all of the worlds secrets—not just the governments—were locked away inside his head. He didn't want them, Bryce had sent him an e-mail. But still; maybe it was best he was locked away. If someone… evil?... got there hands on him it could, and probably would, spell huge trouble. Maybe it would safer for everyone…

He sat up in bed and looked at the digital clock on the nightstand: twelve-forty three. He groaned, it felt so much later than that. Swinging his legs over the side, rubbing his eyes briefly, got up and started pacing around.

He didn't want to watch TV; he flashed on TV occasionally. Same with the internet. He sighed at the realization that he couldn't escape being the Intersect.

Plopping back down on the bed he rested his face in one of his palms, rubbing his forehead with the other. If only he could _sleep._

A sudden _tap, tap, tap_ at the window, followed by it opening, made him jump to his feet. His posture relaxed when he saw Casey, dressed casually, climb through the it into his room. Chuck sat back down on the bed.

"Hi," The agent said simply, closing the window behind him.

"Hi," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips, "What're you doing here?"

Casey didn't reply immediately, instead sitting next to Chuck on the bed, "Was watching you."

Chuck grinned devilishly, "That's kind of creepy."

A smile of his own danced on Casey's lips for the briefest of moments, if Chuck hadn't been watching he would have missed it, "You're not sleeping."

Chuck sighed again, looking down at his feet, "Can't seem to."

Casey nodded, understanding what he was going through.

They sat there for a long time. At least it felt like a long time, hours almost. Though it could have been minutes, the silence between them stretching. It wasn't uncomfortable though; Chuck glad to have someone with him right now. Someone he could actually talk to.

After a while Chuck decided to test the waters a bit, and moved to rest his head on Casey's shoulder. The older man didn't do anything at first, but eventually wrapped his arm around Chuck's shoulders, resting his head on top the smaller man.

Chuck leaned into the touch as close as he could, relishing the contact, the closeness. He felt safe in Casey's arms—well, arm—and that feeling was quite a luxury as of late.

"I won't let you," Casey said, sounding serious, causing Chuck to look up at him curiously.

"Won't let me what?"

Turning, he looked Chuck in the eye and didn't turn away, "Disappear. I won't let you disappear."

A smile spread across his face like wildfire, "Good. Cause I'm not quite ready too yet." Becoming a bit more daring, he placed a quick kiss on Casey's lips.

Casey's eyes softened, his grip on Chuck tightening. He surprised both of them when he leaned down and pressed their lips together firmly. Heat suddenly seemed to spread through Chuck's body, and after the initial shock, pressed himself further into the kiss.

When their tongues met Chuck couldn't help but groan, causing Casey to smile. Reluctantly, he pulled away for air. Both of them gasping, their eyes never leaving each others.

"Wow," Chuck started, "that was new," A lop sided grin on his face.

"Figured it was overdue," He pressed his forehead against Chuck's. They sat like that for what seemed like ages, until Casey grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up into the bed.

"You need to try to get some sleep," He told him seriously and Chuck didn't argue. He knew it was true, "You look like shit," Casey added quickly.

Chuck barked a laugh, "Well I was digging around in a dumpster all morning."

Casey lay down, pulling Chuck into his arms and wrapping them around him protectively while Chuck rested his head on his shoulder again. He inhaled deeply, taking in Casey's scent; lime, from the shower gel he used. It smelled amazing when mixed with Casey's own light musk, soothing him.

And, soon enough, his lids were beginning to become very heavy, "You gonna be here when I wake up?"

Casey sighed, "Probably not," but before Chuck could complain, he added, "But you'll see me at Buy More, like always." He kissed the top of his head.

When he felt Chuck tense he continued, "And you can bet your ass I'll be back again. I'll _always_ come back. Always." That made Chuck relax.

"Promise?"

He leaned down, kissing Chuck to seal the deal, "Promise."

When Chuck finally fell asleep, Casey glanced at the clock. Twelve fifty-five. He held back the chuckle that formed in his chest. Casey didn't sleep that night; he didn't let himself. He watched Chuck all night, making sure he stayed asleep. He was a solider; he knew how to operate at peak efficiency with little to no sleep, and one night wouldn't kill him.

When morning finally came, he carefully unwound his arms from the sleeping man, slipping his arm out from under him carefully before gently lying him back down on the sheets. When Casey turned to go back out the window, he surprised himself by actually looking back.


End file.
